


go spin circles for me

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: tumblr fics & ficlets, part ii. [59]
Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Episode Related, Established Relationship, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Slice of Life, Slow Dancing, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 04:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16233989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: Even though they spent the entirety of last night alone, wrapped up in each other on Andrew’s bed, Steven's hands itch to wander and re-familiarize and hold on tight. There are still so many days that he has to make up for, so many days where they were apart and the only way he could touch Andrew was by stroking his fingers against his phone screen when they were video chatting.(or, a moment between Steven and Andrew during filming of the s5 premiere.)





	go spin circles for me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cathect](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathect/gifts).



> this was written for the prompt _standrew + slow dancing!_ title from [From a Mountain in the Middle of the Cabins](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKvuo-Hm6wI) by Panic At The Disco, which tonally doesn't fit this fic at all, but listen, titles are hard. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> written for and beta'ed by the utterly amazing [Hannah](http://devilstrip.tumblr.com/)!

By the time they finish filming for the day and head back, BuzzFeed headquarters is quiet.

There are still a few people lingering around, hunched over their laptops with headphones clapped over their ears, but for the most part, the desks and pods are unoccupied and darkened. Steven’s footsteps, asynchronous with Andrew’s as he trails after him, seem too loud for their surroundings, especially once they reach the narrow hallway leading to the expansive equipment closet.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen the New York office this subdued. Even in the dead of night, there’s always something going on, some conference call spilling out into the hallways, some video being filmed or a party wrapping up on the roof. It’s always louder, more vibrant, more _alive_.

Normally, Steven thrives off that ever-present buzz of activity, but right now, when it’s just him and Andrew dropping off their equipment, Adam and Annie having already gone home for the night, it’s hard to miss it.

They idly talk as they put everything away, go over the plan for tomorrow’s filming at the mid-range restaurant, and discuss an idea Adam has for season 2 of Eating Your Feed. After everything has been carefully returned to its proper place in the closet, they stop back at Andrew’s desk so he can quickly check something on his laptop. Automatically, Steven slides up onto the edge of Andrew’s desk and gently plucks one of the plushies out of the overstuffed box Andrew keeps beside his monitor. It keeps his hands occupied, keeps him from leaning forward and trailing his fingers up the inside of Andrew’s arm, from the curve of his wrist to the bend of his elbow, keeps him from brushing at Andrew’s hair or fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

He’s done all of that and more, since his flight arrived early yesterday morning, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. Even though they spent the entirety of last night alone, wrapped up in each other on Andrew’s bed, his hands itch to wander and re-familiarize and hold on tight. There are still so many days that he has to make up for, so many days where they were apart and the only way he could touch Andrew was by stroking his fingers against his phone screen when they were video chatting.

With a soft click, Andrew shuts his computer off, and he reaches out to place one hand on top of Steven’s, where it’s still wrapped around the plushie.

“Sorry about that. You ready?”

Steven nods and takes his hand away from Andrew’s just long enough to replace the plushie before he slides off the desk and slots his fingers back between Andrew’s.

“Ready when you are.”

The sun is in its last throes of the day when they return back outside to the parking lot, and the sky is transitioning from deep orange to navy blue at the edges. It was a lovely day, warm without being stifling, and it looks like the night is going to be just as beautiful. There’s a hint of a breeze winding through the air, carrying the smell of the ocean with it, salty and clear, and Steven inhales deeply.

Much as he may love New York, there’s absolutely no comparison between the polluted waters of the Hudson and the everlasting stretch of the Pacific.

“Do you want to head back to my place?” Andrew asks as they cross the asphalt, slowly walking in the direction of his car. It looks almost lonely, surrounded by empty parking spots on either side. His thumb is dragging back and forth up Steven’s finger, following the same path over and over again, like an artist redoing a single stroke of paint until it reaches the point of perfection. It’s really a simple touch in the grand scheme of things, one that Steven has felt over and over again, but a gentle shiver still travels up his spine when he focuses on it.

(He’s missed a lot about Andrew in the time that they’ve been apart, but it’s the little things like this that he most acutely feels the absence of when they’re on opposite sides of the country - things like the way Andrew smiles at him when they’re alone, the way he can still Steven’s racing mind with a single, carefully chosen touch, the constant stream of tiny gestures that show that he _cares_.)

Going back to Andrew’s place is certainly a viable option, but it would be a shame to waste such a beautiful night, especially since they spent most of the day looking out at the sunshine from the window of a car or the plate glass of a restaurant. Besides, if they go back to Andrew’s, there’s about an eighty-five percent chance that he’s going to fall asleep in front of the television with his head cushioned against Andrew’s shoulder as soon as he changes into his sweatpants, and while that certainly isn’t a _terrible_ way to draw the day to a close, he wants to savor every single moment he has with Andrew, wants to make their limited time together something to remember.

“Can we go for a bit of a walk?” he asks, squeezing Andrew’s hand gently. Andrew nods and smiles.

“Sure, Steven. We can do that.”

They pass Andrew’s car and keep walking, until the parking lot and BuzzFeed headquarters are both blocks behind them. The wind picks up slightly, ruffling the downy hairs on Steven’s arms and tickling the back of his neck, and even as he shivers, he sighs contently and lets his eyes closed, just for a few steps.

He loves New York, utterly and truly, feels more at home there than anywhere else in the world, but it’s been a long time since his mind felt purely and completely _content_.

For long stretches of time, while the world around them exists in a fine layer of intertwined sounds, of traffic and footsteps on concrete and wind, there’s silence between them. There’s no pressure for Steven to shove that silence aside, no pressure for him to say anything at all; he allows himself to talk when it feels organic, when something pops into his mind. At one point, he finds himself making an excruciatingly bad pun, and while Andrew groans theatrically at first, the laugh that follows is warm, and Steven feels like he could simply melt into the pavement.

Eventually, he realizes that there’s a new sound drifting through the air, something that feels out of place given the fact that they’re in the middle of the city. As they walk further, the sound grows louder, until Steven realizes that it’s coming from the park across the street, tracking alongside them in a slash of greenery and wrought-iron fence.

Classical music. More specifically, classical music being played _live_ , not just being piped from the window of someone’s home or car.

“Wanna check it out?” Steven asks, using his free hand to point across the street. “Might be some kind of festival.”

“Sure,” Andrew says. “Maybe there’s food. Could grab something for dinner.”

“How are you still hungry?” Steven teases as they cross the street. “I feel like meat is going to come out of my nose if I sneeze.”

“That’s easily the most disgusting thing you’ve ever said to me,” Andrew laughs, leaning over and pressing a messy kiss to the side of Steven’s neck.

They end up in a debate about whether or not that’s true, because Steven is positive that some of the phrases he’s used in the past are far more graphic and descriptive, but the debate doesn’t last for long. It trails off as they head further into the park, following footpaths of crushed stone that wind between the trees. The music gets louder the further they go, until the source of it suddenly appears, nestled in a slight dip in the land that acts as a natural amphitheater. There’s a small, lit-up dais set up in the center of the dip with a string quartet nestled on it, filling almost every available inch of space. Surrounding them on all sides are onlookers, some stretched out on blankets spread out on the grass, others perched on lawn chairs, still others standing mere inches off the footpaths, like they were lured away in mid-step by the music. Steven doesn’t recognize the piece of music, but it’s absolutely beautiful, _too_ beautiful, almost, for the city they’re in.

Before he can ask if Andrew wants to sit and listen for a while, Andrew uses their intertwined hands to gently lead Steven away from the path and into the deep shadows between two trees. Settling his free hand on Steven’s hip, he pulls him even closer, and Steven’s breath hitches as he curves his own hand around Andrew’s waist.

“What are we doing?” he asks, unable to stop himself from breaking out into a laugh. It’s not that the situation is funny, but he has a hard time believing that it’s actually _real_ ; this is the kind of thing that happens in the movies, not in real life.

“I don’t really know,” Andrew answers with a slight laugh of his own. His breath tickles against Steven’s ear as he steps in closer. “Is it okay?” Immediately, Steven nods; he may not have much of an idea what he’s doing, may not be sure of his footing on the slightly uneven ground, but he does know that he doesn’t want to pull away.

“Yeah,” he answers, twisting so that he can press his mouth to the first part of Andrew he can reach, which turns out to be high up on his cheek, almost at his temple. “Definitely.”

As far as dancing goes, it’s a spectacularly terrible effort. They quickly fall out of step with the music, and their feet tread the same spots over and over again as they sway back and forth without anything approaching a sense of rhythm. When Andrew attempts to turn them into a small spin, Steven trips over his own feet and nearly yanks them both down to the ground.

As a moment of joy, on the other hand, it’s absolutely perfect.

As the string quartet transitions into another song, something slower that makes Steven think of fireplaces and mansions and snowdrifts, Andrew pulls back slightly and presses a kiss to the corner of Steven’s mouth, soft and lingering. Both of his hands, the ones clutching Steven’s and the one wrapped around his hip, tighten incrementally.

“I missed you so much,” he murmurs, deep voice barely audible. Another shiver travels up Steven’s back, and a flush spreads out across his face, warmest in his cheeks.

The world could end in the next hour, and so long as he had this memory to cling to, he’d go out happy.

“Yeah,” he answers, tightening his grip on Andrew’s waist, closing his eyes and letting a heavy, warm wave of contentment wash over him. “I missed you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
